Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

The high-tier will projection—that was the ace up Dadur's sleeve, the reason he dared to summon a tsunami even after being outmatched by Marina. But neither he nor Cyclon could have possibly imagined that their ultimate trump card would be devoured in a single instant.

"Are you trying to stop me?" Marina turned, her menacing tone directed at Cyclon, who had appeared behind her, blocking her path.

"Never!" Cyclon shook his head frantically, scrambling to move aside and clear the way for her.

He had only been following Dadur's plan. The will projection was supposed to kill Marina, or at the very least, tie up whatever hidden power she possessed. Then, Cyclon would block her path while Dadur swept onto the island and slaughtered the entire Stoneheart Horde contingent.

In their minds, a Legendary level expert like Dadur could wipe out Alpha-level warriors like Rendall with contemptuous ease. By the time Marina realized what was happening, it would be too late.

But something had gone wrong. To be precise, this was the second thing that had gone wrong.

VZZZT!

It was the phantom of a trident.

The Reverse Whale lord, Dadur, in the midst of his murderous rampage, had just cut down Beyn and Torba and had turned his attention to Rendall. But as Rendall faced certain death, a will projection Orion had placed on him was triggered.

The phantom trident shot forth. The Reverse Whale lord, Dadur, was blasted into a shower of gore before he could even scream.

And as Dreadfin Cyclon moved to clear the way, he and Marina both witnessed this exact moment.

An uncontrollable tremor wracked Cyclon's entire body. The phantom trident that had just obliterated Dadur had now locked its sights on him.

Death, or fear? In that brief, terrifying instant, Cyclon couldn't even identify his own emotions.

The phantom's gaze swept past Marina for a moment before it returned to Rendall and faded. The crisis was over.

"Submission," Marina said, her voice like ice as she looked at Cyclon, "or death?"

The appearance of the trident phantom meant the Stoneheart Horde had suffered casualties in that short span of time. That was a debt that had to be paid—for the horde, and for the people who had followed her here. The Legendary level Dreadfin, Cyclon, would be that payment.

"Cyclon… is willing to submit," he stammered, his eyes darting to the ancient giant-horned whale, which was still circling nearby, ready to devour anyone at a moment's notice. He wisely chose to surrender.

Marina was just as decisive, immediately binding him with a master-vassal contract of fealty.

On the island, the fighting wasn't over. When Dadur had attacked the Stoneheart Horde, his own vassals, hidden within the tsunami, had attacked as well. Marina commanded the ancient giant-horned whale to charge the island. Any Sea Race warrior surrounding the Stoneheart Horde was either crushed or consumed.

The war for Aenari Island was finally over.

"Arch Elder… Beyn and Torba… they're dead," Drakthul reported, coming to Rendall's side. The elder himself was still reeling from the brush with death, his eyes wide with shock.

"Who?" he asked, his voice hollow. "Beyn and Torba? Dead?"

***

The Deep Sea, an Unknown Region.

The moment the aura of the ancient giant-horned whale appeared, the Sea-Drake king, Neptor, was roused from his slumber.

"Who is that? A strange arch lord's aura… from the direction of Aenari Island… could it be the King of the Giants? No, that's not his presence… What is happening on that island?"

It wasn't long before Neptor found out. An arch lord of the Reverse Whale race sent him a furious message, demanding an explanation. The Sea-Drake king's reply was simple: it had nothing to do with him.

Does the Stoneheart Horde have another hidden arch lord? he mused. They hide their strength well.

***

Stoneheart City, the Castle.

Orion's mood was somber. By the time the will projection he'd placed on the elder had activated, Beyn and Torba had already been slain by Dadur. There had been no chance to save them.

"Only Dace is left," Orion whispered, a wave of melancholy washing over him. Of his four original guards—Dace, Otho, Beyn, and Torba—only one remained.

He had steeled himself for the reality of life and death the day his sister Clymene had fallen, but when the moment came, the loss of his guards still hit him hard. From the moment of his awakening, the four of them had been with him through countless life-and-death battles, without a single word of complaint.

Was this their destiny?

Though he could raise them as Skeletal Knights, he knew that the bond they shared, the camaraderie, would gradually fade. A barrier of race and blood would be erected between them—that was an undeniable fact.

As Skeletal Knights, their connection to him and to the Stoneheart Horde would diminish with time, until one day, they might not even know for whom they fought.

Orion sighed, his mind a turmoil of troubled thoughts. He rose from his throne, left the great hall, and walked toward the deeper chambers of the castle. In times like these, perhaps being with his wife and children would ease the pain.

***

Silverwood Realm, the Outskirts of Staghelm City.

Orion's Deathly Soul-Reaper followed the Deputy Commander and Alexander. Their counter-attack smashed through the moon giants' Hydraea Plains with the force of an avalanche, driving straight for the southern Black Tower.

"I'm sending Sever with you," Alexander said suddenly, turning to the Deathly Soul-Re Reaper. "Show no mercy. Even if they're just avatars, I want every last one of them slain."

Orion didn't understand at first, but when the Deputy Commander and Alexander shot up into the sky, he knew. The war between the highest powers had begun.

High above, two blazing suns appeared—the two demigod Pontiffs of the Cult of Four. Their appearance was an open challenge, a call for a battle of demigods.

But just as they manifested, a crack tore open in the void. A great bone-forged sword lashed out, striking both suns and driving them back. Arthas stepped through the rift, joining the Deputy Commander and Alexander. Three demigods of the Champions Alliance now held the field.

"Pontiff Jack!" a voice boomed from one of the suns. Clearly, the Cult of Four's Pontiffs were unwilling to be outnumbered three to two.

"Heh heh heh… it seems there's no avoiding this!"

At the summons, a demigod phantom rose from the rear of the Cult of Four's puppet armies. It was the clown. With a sinister laugh, he ascended into the sky, hovering opposite Arthas, Edward, and Alexander.

"Gentlemen," the clown crooned. "It's been a while."

ZZZZING!

The only reply was the sharp ring of a drawn sword as Alexander answered for them all. It was a statement of their intent.

The clown waved a hand, and a shield materialized before him, effortlessly deflecting the wave of sword energy.

"Pontiff Jack, waste no more words with them," Yriel's voice roared. "They dared to invade our Cult of Four's territory. They must be judged."

As he spoke, a barrier slammed down around them all, a vast, oppressive dome of energy. The Cult of Four's Dais of Judgment had descended once more.